TC TO JANET CARLYLE HANNING ; 2 November 1842; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18421102-TC-JCHA-01; CL 15: 156-157
TC TO JANET CARLYLE HANNING
CHELSEA, 2d Nov. 1842.
MY DEAR JENNY,—Yesterday I meant to have written to you, in order to be ready for Thursday at Annan, such had been my firm purpose, but something came in the way, and I altogether forgot till this morning. Lest I make a similar mistake for Saturday too, I will take time by the forelock and write even now. The barrel of meal, and the box of garments arrived all safe, on Saturday night last.
And I have to apprize you, as the expert needlewoman of the whole, that all fits with perfect correctness. I have had a pair of drawers on, and a flannel shirt, I have one of the cambric shirts on me at present: everything is as right as if it had been made under my own eye. The flannel of the shirts is excellent, they are made to the very measure. The drawers also are the best fit of the article I have had for several years back; two of the pairs, I observe, are of the fine flannel the shirts are of. Perhaps it will prove too cool for the depth of winter—perhaps not, but either way I have plenty of warmer, for that season. One of the pairs is of right shaggy flannel. My good Mother sent a fine wool plaid too and a dozen pair of socks, few mortals are better off for woolen this winter!— As to the muslin shirts Jane says they are excellently sewed,—She is the judge, I find them to lie flat on the breast too, which the old would never do.
In short, it is all perfectly right; and you will be very glad, I doubt not, that you have got it well off your hands. If in the course of the winter, you fall out of work, and want a canny job for yourself, it will be acceptable enough to me that you set Jean upon getting you some more stuff, and make me half a dozen more of the like shirts! But this you need not, unless in the aforesaid case. I believe the stock I have will serve me some couple of years or more. But they eat no bread.— If you ever do think of this, you can let me know before starting; I may perhaps have some remarks to make.
You will be nestling all under cover now at Gill, when the short days and the frosts are come. I hope you have a right stock of fuel in your end of the house; and that your little carpet is now complete. I long to question the Dr. about you when he comes back hither. He is at a place they call Malvern some 120 miles west of this.
How are Mary and Jamie? very busy, and well, I hope. Mary never writes. I sent James a tobacco-box!— Poor Allan Cunningham the Poet is dead very suddenly;1 a sad event for several of us!—
Adieu, Dear little sister.
Ever your affect. /